Meteor Blast
by NekoAiHime
Summary: A collection of small drabble prompts for Kacchako. Will be updated whenever I get a new prompt.
1. Prompt: Flowers

A/n: I'm doing a thing on tumblr where people can send me prompts and I'll write a 4-5 sentence drabble for the Kacchako pairing. They're not exactly 4-5 sentences, but I decided to share them here too.

* * *

There was something _ridiculous_ about the fuss people made over flowers; fragile petals and stupid sweet scents - nothing made sense about the damn things, they were pointless and useless and did little to enhance a person's life ( herbs were completely different, he would argue, they had properties that stupid shit like fucking roses did not ). Yet here he was with a damn red rose, cursing and swearing at himself and how _stupid_ he had got to be for falling for the damn trap and getting a stupid fucking rose for a stupid fucking _adorab-_ -just an idiot, a _nd here he was_ , thrusting the bloom into her face.

"Shut your mouth. Just take the damn thing, roundface." A threat even before she could react, nonetheless obediently ( reluctantly ) she retrieved the blossom from him, careful to avoid the thorns that had been left alone - do the people who sell them not remove the thorns...?

A questioning gaze raised, but he only scowled, "You're not some fragile girl who needed them gone, " she was a _rose_ thatbloody hell stuck her thorns into him, gripping him and his heart tight within a relentless grasp, making his stupid heart race at her stupid ass smile and stupid dumb giggle that she was fucking hell doing right fucking now, and **_damned be him_** if he would remove them willingly.

"I love you too, Katsuki."


	2. One Hit

He did not game often, or rather, Katsuki barely gamed at all. He spent most of his time on training, and free time doing things he had to do – be it studies or hobbies. But he did spend some time plugged into music, tuning out the world and its cacophony for good old _rock_. Eyes shut, music _blasting_ , bass thumping, there was nothing that could quite capture his attention once he laid full focus into the tunes. He was no song writer, but there was something about a _certain_ someone that made words dart into mind – words he was careful not to scribe _anywhere_. Not when his nosy girlfriend wandered his room so freely, ( not that he minded her presence one bit, it was nice to have her around after a long day, but he would not admit it so easily ) she teased. A LOT.

Absorbed within his own thoughts and grousing to himself, he ignored the approach of the brunette, perhaps all too sure that she would remove his headphones if she wanted anything from him. She knew how he worked; and he adored her for that. There were few who understood his inner workings, but Ochako knew without much effort; and he wondered if he was an open book to her. _Was it all that bad?_

She hovered by his side, and he reacted a _moment_ too late. She was getting better at catching him off guard ( of course, he barely had his guard up around her these days ), and aresounding _SLAP_ upon cheek made him curse as he _finally_ gave her his attention.

"What the fuck, roun-" There was no force to it, it might as well be a damn _tap_ to his face but the action left questions plentiful and he _demanded_ answers. Eyes blazing with irritation, digits reached to grip her arm, ensuring that she could not flee before he was satisfied – but she captured his face with both hands, always so careful to keep her quirk at bay, always looking as beautiful as she could be, always smelling like a potent mix of vanilla and _his_ soap, always lea— _leaning in close and pressing those soft warm lips to his….?_

"Love you, Katsuki~"

And off she ATTEMPTED to flee, yet unfortunately for his mischievous girlfriend, his grip was steel, and focus now laser sharp. She would not be getting away anytime soon. One damn kiss was not enough.

"You're going to regret that, Ochako."

Music all but forgotten, the errant girlfriend was snatched up and tossed upon shoulder, her squeals of protest happily ignored. If Ochako wanted to play, he would _play_. His way.

"I hope you're feeling ticklish, roundface~"

 **But she always was.**


	3. Never meant to be

**HE WAS DIFFERENT FROM EVERYONE ELSE.** He did not smile like they did, he did not cheer and riot like they did. He was an enigma, brain whirling in a different tune – yet still he desired the same thing. Acceptance. Acknowledgment. Adoration. He was tough as can be, the strongest amongst them all, there was no denying it – but he wanted more, he _always_ wanted more. Top of the class, yet the energy swarmed and _floated_ around damn Deku. He would not deny that the other had improved, grown, leaps and bounds. But he still hated him. He hated how people swarmed to him as though he was a damn light.

But he knew. That was the difference between Deku and him.

Katsuki was the one people feared, hated, worried. He was the one most likely to fall into darkness, the one most likely to become a villain. His destructive quirk, his antagonistic behaviour, they believed that he would accept the darkness. But they did not know him. To be a villain was to become _everything_ he was against; he might be crude and violent, but his path always shone clear. Hero.

He was the one who saved people. He was the one who won fights. He was the one who came up top. He was the damn victor, but no one saw it. He had few friends who could accept his aggressive behaviour and harsh words, the endless vulgarities that he could not cease. Even when _she_ came up to him with teasing conversation, even when he tried to hold back ( it was not as bad, just a nickname right? It was accurate, at least. ). But still she did, and reluctant as he was, Katsuki considered her a friend. But he wanted more. So much more. He just wanted to be a part of _her_ group, not with all the damn girls, but just her. Her and the teasing way she only had towards him, how she just knew what laid deep within, how she read his inner thoughts without much effort. He detested to admit, but he could even tolerate the manner she sent him floating _just for laughs_ , because it meant that she had to put her whole hand upon him.

 _Thanks._

He would have to let her go. _She belonged in the light_ , with damn Deku even if he abhorred the very thought. Not by his side where darkness brewed a corrupted storm. Not even if his chest wrenched and fist clenched; barely holding his quirk back as she giggled and shook her head at what Deku said. He could never have her. That was the one damn thing he could never beat Deku at. It was the _only_ fucking thing he wanted to beat Deku at. At this very moment, at this very instance, all he wanted was to hold her, touch her as casually as they did. But he could never. His every touch was a damn threat. and she was too damn good for him. **IT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE.**  
 _  
Bye._


	4. Prompt: What's hidden in your eyes

She hoped it was not painfully obvious, at least not to the object of her affections – they belonged to each other now, in a way many failed to understand, but she was his, and he hers. Yet still there was something about Katsuki that constantly overwhelmed her, both heart and mind; so much so that despite her teasing of her boyfriend, she was the one flustered beyond comprehension.

Rosy cheeks tinted crimson each time he pressed her against the wall, snatching them away from prying eyes into privacy to sate the endless hunger between lovers, and she simply adored gazing straight into his eyes after an intensive makeout ( or anytime at all ), just to smile and thank the stars that he was hers. He would always grunt, cup her cheeks and take another kiss, sometimes chaste, sometimes as breathless as sparring, but always full of wholehearted love, "What are you looking at, round face?" He would always ask, and she would simply laugh and respond;

"What's hidden in your eyes."

But it was hardly hidden; she saw right through him and his crimson eyes; most people saw recklessness, but she saw her man – when he looked at her, she only saw _respectful rapture_.


	5. Kiss Kiss ( already in love )

**She was too damn short.** It was not as though he minded _particularly_ much, she fit well between his arms, between his legs; whatever it was, she just _fit_. He enjoyed slinging arm around her shoulder ( occasionally even resting it upon her head ), or resting chin upon the tousled mess as he wrapped arms around her small waist, how she rested head upon his chest as she tightened arms around him as though she simply wanted his warmth and embrace.

Often, he had wondered if she was that short because of her past; she spoke occasionally in private about her childhood and how life had been difficult – one of the reasons she wanted to become a Pro Hero in the first place. He had all that he wanted, did she? But she had little complaints about life, ever the positive cheerful optimistic girlfriend; though he did find exceptional fun in teasing her when it came to kissing.

It was not his fault that she could not reach.

It was mildly amusing to watch her tiptoe, and puff her cheeks out when she wanted a kiss, to watch the strain upon her even though she had many other options besides simply getting on her toes like a ballerina. He liked it, looking down on her as honest features told of her desire. A kiss. Simple as that. Nonetheless, he had every right to, considering how she teased the hell out of him when they had first begun dating.

Yet today, today he hungered for her affections. Today he wanted her to kiss him, and she was having none of that. Or perhaps she had yet to realize that he had been staring at those soft supple lips, glossy and scented. Or perhaps she did, and she was taking revenge for all the times he made her work to reach up and kiss him. Bending over for a kiss would mean that he admitted defeat. No fucking way.

And yet she skipped along as though nothing mattered, even though she had not given him even a _single_ damn kiss even though they usually engaged in liplocks swiftly during dates. One hour. It has been one damn long hour. _He was tired of waiting._ Thus his grip tightened upon her, a stern glare causing mild confusion within chocolate oculars; the date had been going well so far, Ochako could not fathom the reason behind the sudden aggression, and surely not why he dragged her out of the public's eyes.

Within the alleyway, he offered no explanations, nor allowed her time to pull away. Digits inched, brushing the pale silver of exposed side skin as he maintained and _demanded_ eye contact. She protested, his name upon pouting lips; but obedient nonetheless. "What is it, Katsuki?" But he would extend no clarification, instead letting hands slide down to firmly grasp her bottom. Casually ignoring her squeal of objection, Katsuki lifted Ochako up with ease, marveling at how one could remain so ridiculously light ( despite not using her quirk ) when they worked out as often as he did, ensuring that her legs were safely locked around his hips before what little of a distance that remained between them was quickly closed. Palms retained their positions, kneading as he pleased, and whilst Ochako's cheeks seared hot and red, she knew exactly where and how to rest her arms.

"If you wanted a kiss, you should have just said so." She teased ( or attempted to ), but it was clear that she was no victor, not by the way she was flustered beyond comprehension – but it was just the way he liked it. He claimed her lips for his own, reveling in accomplishment and the sweet sweet flavour of success that came with the new lip gloss she now preferred. He leans in so that their foreheads rests against each other, chuckling lowly at the heat hot face emitted yet whispering her name as her heart fluttered against his skin. He was _addicted_ to her, and somehow it did not seem so bad.

"You're too fucking short, roundface."

 _Not that he minded one bit._


End file.
